


Ground Training

by FantasyFiend09



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: M/M, Pony Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyFiend09/pseuds/FantasyFiend09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathaniel has always wanted a show pony of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ground Training

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Kink Meme 08-08-2011. It is unchanged from that form.

“Good girl, Clover, good girl,” Nathaniel whispered to his horse as he gently removed her bridle and took a wet brush to the metal bit. He knew the stable boys were meant to handle these details, but their work was never to his standards. This piece of metal in his mare's mouth was an essential part of their link as horse and rider. 

Once Clover's gear was carefully cleaned and stored, Nathaniel began brushing her down. He ran the comb along the caramel hair of her back, paying extra attention to the areas where sweat and dirt had been caught between her hair and the saddle. 

Satisfied that she was clean, Nathaniel carefully combed out her honey-coloured mane and plaited it. This was an entirely frivolous act. It was one of the few frivolities the bowman allowed himself, and he did so only with Clover. She reminded him of a show pony his sister had as a child. 

He had been trained to see a horse as a means of transportation and an advantage in battle. But he had watched his sister learn to make a horse strut and prance. The formality and discipline had appealed to him, and he had often helped her practice and train. 

Clover reminded him of those times, but only in appearance. She was beautiful and had the colouring of Delilah's childhood filly, but she was a warhorse and lacked the posture and movement of a proper show horse.

Nathaniel stood stroking the horse, lost in memory.

“If you need something else to stroke...”

Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder at the speaker and saw a familiar flirtatious grin. He looked back at Clover and could not help but notice the similarity in colouring between mage and horse. An idea occurred to him and he wondered if the mage was really as open-minded as he claimed.

“Anders, do you like horses?” A cautious start.

“You know I don't! Big, awkward animals with those spooky eyes. They just can't wait to kick or trample me.”

“It's a shame, really,” Nathaniel mused aloud, “I think there is a wasted potential there.” He feigned being lost in thought. “Perhaps...perhaps if you understood them better.”

“Why do I need to understand them? I just avoid them!”

“Ah, but that's becoming inconvenient. We Wardens do a lot of travelling. Now that we have horses, I suspect the Commander will want to use them more. We can't have you walking behind and holding us up.” Nathaniel was impressed with his own manipulation, especially when he turned to face the mage and saw genuine concern on his face.

“Riding is really quite simple once you understand horses,” Nathaniel continued. “I would be willing to help you overcome your discomfort.”

“Really? You would?” Anders seemed surprised and on the edge of suspicion.

“Of course,” Nathaniel said almost harshly. “It is my duty as a Warden to make sure our healer is capable of travelling without hurting himself. Besides,” he affected a tired look, “it's only a matter of time before the Commander assigns me the task anyway.” He let out a deep sigh.

Anders, as far as Nathaniel could tell, had swallowed the whole story. 

“So...how do I...get over my...discomfort.”

Nathaniel cracked a grin. “We start at dawn.”

 

oOoOo

 

“Nathaniel, I hate to be the one to point this out, but you forgot the horse.” Anders said with his usual grin.

“To be able to ride a horse,” Nathaniel began with calm authority, “you need to understand him. There is understanding you can gain before you go near a real horse.” 

It was a clear, cool spring morning and Nate had led Anders to a secluded paddock nestled against the blossoming orchards. The low trees offered both shade and privacy. 

“Close your eyes, Anders. We will start with a simple mental exercise.” Anders looked sceptical. “All you have to do is imagine.” Anders shrugged and closed his eyes.

Nathaniel's voice was low and seductive, whispered into Anders' ears. “You are no longer a Warden, no longer a mage...you are no longer a man. You are an animal. A beautiful, graceful animal. A horse. You are kept and cared for by a...” He wanted to say “owner,” but he worried what the term might trigger for the mage. “...rider. He meets all of your needs, cares for you, cleans you, feeds you...teaches you.” 

Nathaniel watched Anders' face relax and smiled at the slightest hint of longing in his features. “You are his and he guides you. He commands and you obey. You obey because you are his and he keeps you safe.”

Nathaniel risked gently stroking Anders' hair from his face with his hand. “Your rider cares for you,” another stroke, this time with fingertips through the hair to its tie, “tends to you,” this stroke removed the tie as his fingers ran along his scalp, “grooms you." 

Nathaniel fell silent, watching the mage's face as he combed his silky, honey-blond hair with his fingers. The mage stood still, his eyes shut and his mouth in a relaxed smile. His head leaned slightly toward Nathaniel's touch with each stroke through his hair. 

Nathaniel resisted the urge to whisper the little assurances he would offer Clover, afraid of stumbling on a word that might pull the mage out of the fantasy. The first day was already going better than he planned, and he would need to bring the mage back gently.

“You are safe with your rider,” he began again in a low whisper, “he will care for you. That is what it is to be a pony.” He let the words settle before he gave the mage's hair and final stroke. 

“When you are a pony, your rider will tend to you.” A tiny step back. “But sometimes we must be content with only the wind in our hair.” Another step. “Sometimes we must be a man without the comfort and protection of a rider.” Another step. “Right now you are a man. You are a mage. You are a Grey Warden.”

“You did an excellent job today, Anders,” Nathaniel commented casually as the mage's lashes began to flutter. “We'll continue again tomorrow morning.”

Anders looked a little disoriented, but he was still complacent and subdued.

“Come,” Nathaniel said warmly, “It must be time for breakfast. Let's enjoy this fine morning and walk back through the orchards.”

The mage fell in step with him and they walked in a peaceful silence through the fresh blossoms.

oOoOo 

 

The next few days built on the first. Nathaniel would cast a spell with words and gently coax the mage into accepting the comforts of stroking fingers, a soft blanket around his shoulders, a lump of sugar, and a piece of apple from his new rider. Away from the paddock, neither man made any mention of their morning meetings.

Nathaniel did not push in those first few days, partially because he did not want to spook Anders and partially because he was waiting for Master Wade to complete his order. 

The blacksmith had responded no differently to Nathaniel's request for tack to fit a human being than he had to previous requests for a dagger or bracers. There had been questions about leather, fit, and design, but none about purpose. He had warned that the order would take time; Wade was not a leatherworker and would need to find someone with the skill to complete the intricate leather straps.

When the gear was ready, however, Nathaniel knew that he would have to push Anders beyond standing still with his eyes closed. The mage needed to become an active participant in this fantasy, or it would stagnate and die.

oOoOo 

 

“Anders,” he whispered gently as the mage stood with his eyes closed in the paddock. Nathaniel had combed his pony's hair free with his fingers, wrapped a blanket across his shoulders, and was now feeding him sweet pieces of apple from his open hand. He loved the way Anders' lips ticked his palm as he blindly felt for another piece of apple.

“Anders,” he whispered again, “It is time for you to open your eyes. You are still my pony, you are still safe, but you must open your eyes.”

Nathaniel had dressed for the occasion. He wore the fitted breeches and high leather boots he preferred for riding, hoping the sight of them might help keep Anders in his role.

Amber eyes filled with uncertainly slowly emerged from behind their lids.

“Beautiful, Anders,” Nathaniel encouraged. He held his hand out again, silently offering another piece of apple. He kept his hand just under the mage's mouth, prompting him to use his lips instead of his hands.

With nervous hesitation, Anders carefully leaned his head forward and took a piece in his teeth. 

Nathaniel smiled and saw his pony relax under his approval. 

“He's ready,” Nathaniel thought. “Tomorrow we begin.” 

oOoOo 

 

Nathaniel left most of the tack in a locked chest in his room. Just getting Anders to wear the bridle would be challenge enough for one day. 

The piece was beautifully crafted from soft, brown leather. There were straps to go across Anders' brow, under his chin and to the bit that would go in his mouth. Each strap led back to metal rings that would sit against each cheek. Also attached to those rings were the reigns Nathaniel would use to guide him. 

Nathaniel had put great thought into whether to start with the bridle or a harness. He knew Anders was likely to baulk at having a bit put in his mouth, but it felt more horse-like than the harness that would attach to his torso. Anders needed to accept what they were really playing. 

In the end, Nathaniel had Wade design the bit to be easily detachable from the bridle and started with a bit that was little more than a thin cord of fabric. 

He held the bridle in his hands as he stood by the paddock gate and waited for Anders to arrive. 

The mage was, like always, in his robes. Nathaniel would have to fix that, but first things first.

“Anders, the time has come for us to talk and you to make a decision.”

The mage immediately looked guarded.

“We have both enjoyed the game we have been playing, but we are not being honest about what we are really doing.”

“You are teaching me to like horses so I can ride!” Anders threw in defensively.

Nathaniel gave him a look of disappointment and delighted to see some of the fight drain out of him. The mage wore submission beautifully.

“Perhaps the first day you can here to learn to ride. But that is not why you return. You like being my pony. You like the way I groom and feed you, and you want me to continue.” He held up a firm hand when Anders looked ready to object. “Anders,” his voice was now quite firm, “you enjoy our fantasy, as do I. You enjoy being my pony. But you have a second fantasy in which you pretend you are only doing this to learn some skill required of you as a Warden. You must choose between them.”

He pressed on. He did not want a spoken reply from the mage. Horses do not speak.

“I have in my hands a bridle specially designed to fit a human head. I intend to put it on you.” The mage's eyes were wide, but he did not speak or flee. 

“If you choose our fantasy, I will expect you to behave like a pony. You might be docile, you might flinch and flee, but you will not speak. If you say but one word in the Fereldan tongue, I will know which choice you have made and this game will be over. If you make that choice, I will never speak of this again.”

He stood very still and watched as the mage thought. The mage's eyes never left the bridle in his hands.

Finally, Anders eyes lifted and Nathaniel saw a determined defiance that made his heart speed.   
Nathaniel smiled as he step forward and lifted the bridle to Anders' face. Anders stepped back and jerked away, but he did not speak. Nathaniel took another step forward, but Anders jerked away and darted to the side.

“You are a naughty pony,” Nathaniel said with relish as he slowly pursued. His pony would trot away and pause. When he strode forward, the pony would bolt again.

His pony stopped against the fence and he was able to close the distance between them.

“Steady boy, steady. I won't hurt you,” Nathaniel cooed. The pony would not let him within arm's reach.

He rested the bridle on his own shoulder, reached into his pocket, and pulled out an apple. His pony looked at it with interest. 

“Here you go, boy. Have some apple.” His pony slowly, cautiously approached his hand. Finally he took a bite and then stepped back to chew it. 

“Good boy, good boy.” The hand that did not hold the apple reached out to gently stroke blonde hair, but the pony flinched away. However, when the bite was swallowed, the pony leaned forward again to take another bite. 

Nathaniel was patient. He kept his free hand up and eventually his pony accepted stroking fingers through his hair as he chewed his apple. 

Nathaniel was completely still other than the one hand that stroked Anders as he ate the entire apple, bite by bite, from his hand. Nathaniel finally tossed the core aside and stepped even closer to stroke his pony's face and neck with both hands. 

While skittish, the pony allowed the proximity. When the last bit of apple was swallowed, Nathaniel took the bridle from his shoulder and tried to position it against Anders' face. Anders thrashed and tried to pull away as the bit pushed against his lips and the straps reached over and around his head. 

Anders jerked again and took a step back, but Nathaniel's grip was firm and his arms were strong. One hand cupped under his pony's chin and teased at the sides of his mouth with his fingertips. Finally, Anders' lips parted and Nathaniel slid the bit inside. With the bit secure, both hands went to buckling the bridle in place. The fight went out of the pony as the bridle was tightened and secured.

Nathaniel stepped back to admire his work, reigns tightly in hand but with plenty of slack. Sweet, reassuring words flowed effortlessly from his lips as he stroked Anders' nose and teased the forelock of his hair out from under the brow strap. 

His pony chewed at the foreign cord in his mouth. Sometimes he made faces of irritation, but never did he speak.

His pony. 

Nathaniel held the reigns lax as he slowly led Anders around the circumference of the paddock.

His pony.

 

oOoOo 

 

The next morning, he gave the mage the option of choosing a pony name that might help him separate their play from their time away from the paddock. Anders smiled and shook his head.

“Now Nathaniel, we all know that if you had a horse of your own, you would name him after the charming and attractive mage Warden you so admire.”

Nathaniel raised a brow at the mage's smirk. “Yes, perhaps I would name her Velanna.”

Anders gave him an exaggerated pout and he laughed.

“Are you sure?” Nathaniel confirmed.

The mage rolled his eyes. “I don't need some silly horse name to help me separate this from reality. I am aware that I am not really a horse. And I don't see you taking on some silly rider name.”

“I don't need one. You can't talk, remember?”

Anders laughed. “That's why you like this so much, isn't it? You finally found a way to shut me up so you don't have to listen to my voice.”

“I like your voice,” Nathaniel heard himself say. “Where the fuck did that come from?” he wondered. He composed himself and gave the mage a raised brow. “Shall we begin?” 

Anders lifted two balled hands in front of his own chest and gave an impish grin. Then he trotted off across the paddock. 

He again fought the bridle, but Nathaniel was able to sooth him with words and strokes and an apple. Nathaniel held the reigns as he led him around the paddock. Occasionally, his pony would stray from the fence and he would have to guide him back. The pony was still learning, so he was gentle.

After their session, Nathaniel broached the issue of the mage's attire. He handed Anders a pair of tan leather breeches that were almost the colour of the mage's skin. 

“Wear these tomorrow.”

“Under my robes?”

“You may wear the robes until you reach the paddock. Once inside, the breeches alone will suffice.” Nathaniel decided to add another step. “When you get here, we'll add the boots and tail.”

“Tail?!” 

“Oh, it's nothing. Just some hair on a belt.” Nathaniel failed to mention that it was only to tide them over until he could visit the novelty shop in Amaranthine that Master Wade had mentioned.

“All in due time,” he thought. He was glad that Anders' concern about the tail had caused him to not ask about the boots. That could be tomorrow's surprise. 

oOoOo

 

The boots were the same leather as the breeches Anders' wore. The base of the boot held only the ball of Anders' foot and was shaped like a horse's hoof. The rest of Anders' foot was supported higher up in the boots that reached up to his knees. 

Anders had removed his robe so Nathaniel could secure the tail belt around his waist. The sight of Anders in nothing but fitted, skin-coloured leather appealed to Nathaniel on many levels. “He is a pony, not a man,” he reminded himself. “My pony.”

Anders took a shaky step forward in his new boots. “How am I supposed to walk in these things?” he asked petulantly.

Nathaniel smiled. “That is why you have a trainer.” He produced his riding crop and saw serious apprehension in Anders' eyes. “Are you ready to begin?”

Anders hesitated before giving a slight nod. He lifted his balled hands and took a careful step. 

With his awkward, fumbling steps, Anders truly looked like a foal finding his legs.

He endured for a few minutes and then stopped. Nathaniel nudged him with the crop. Anders shook his head.

Nathaniel pressed the crop firmly against Anders' leg and was given a fierce glare. He brought the crop down across Anders' left buttocks and heard the sharp intake of breath that followed the satisfying crack. 

Anders rounded on him and opened his mouth as if to speak. His eyes told volumes of what he wanted to say, but he did not break the game. They both stood very still as Anders regained control of himself. 

Finally, he took a single step forward.

“Good boy,” Nathaniel cooed. “Once around the paddock, Boy. You can do it.”

Anders traced the circumference of the paddock with his eyes, looked at his feet in the unfamiliar and uncomfortable boots, and then glared at Nathaniel again.

Nathaniel tapped the crop against his hand.

Anders bared his teeth. 

Nathaniel tapped the crop against Anders' thigh. Anders bit the air in front of Nathaniel and then reluctantly began walking. He stayed far from the fence, shrinking the oval as much as Nathaniel would let him. 

When the lap was completed, Nathaniel knelt in front of Anders and undid the laces of his fitted boots. He helped Anders step out of them, all the while continuing to call him “good boy” to indicate the play was not over. Anders looked baffled, but remained in character.

Nathaniel led his pony out of the paddock to a grassy spot in the shade of a tree. He placed a simple collar with a rope lead attached to the front around Anders' neck. He tied the over end of the rope to a thick tree branch. Then he removed the bridle so that Anders wore nothing but his breeches, his tail, and the collar. The rope gave the pony plenty of slack.

Nathaniel guided him onto his knees and forearms so that no weight was held by the sore calves and feet. Then he began to groom his pony. 

He had a special brush with bristles far softer than he would ever use on a real horse. He ran the brush down Anders' back. He applied enough pressure so that the soft bristles did not tickle. Giggling would be distinctly not-horse-like. 

He brushed his pony's back and arms, and then he combed his mane and tail. Finally, Nathaniel applied his strong hands to kneading Anders' clenched calf muscles. 

He removed Anders' collar and began to rub his sore feet. The morning's game was over.

“You did very well today, Anders,” he praised.

“You were a right jerk,” the mage retorted, although his body showed none of his earlier fury.

“You needed a little prodding,” Nathaniel stated with confidence. “You were able to do so much more when pushed.” 

Anders gave a horse-like snort, but did not argue. Nathaniel finished rubbing his feet.

“Shall we get breakfast?” Nathaniel asked, offering his fellow Warden a hand up.

Anders took his hand and stood up. He threw on his robes and his usual, more comfortable, boots. He almost forgot to remove the tail before the two men walked back to the keep.

oOoOo 

 

The mess hall was full of soldiers and Wardens. Anders was sitting with a few of the soldiers he knew best, while Nathaniel sat further down the same table. 

One of the soldiers was playing with his own shaggy red hair, twisting it around his fingers and glaring at it.

“I need to cut this mop,” the soldier said, gesturing at his head. He stopped glaring at his own hair and glanced over at the mage next to him. “If you want, Anders, I'll do your hair while I'm at it.”

Anders ran his fingertips through his own hair as if considering his reply. His eyes glanced to Nathaniel's and he looked surprised at what he saw there. Nathaniel had not realised he was showing his fear of losing some of Anders' lovely blond hair. The mage had not cut it since his joining and it was well past his shoulders.

“Uh...I have a lot to get done, maybe another time,” the mage replied.

“Your choice. But,” the soldier lifted Anders' bound hair, “if this tail of yours gets much longer, someone may mistake you for a horse and throw a saddle on you.” Some of the soldiers laughed.

The mage did not miss a beat. 

“Not likely,” he replied casually. “I'm much too good looking. That seamstress of yours however...” Some of the other men snickered.

“She does not look like a horse.” The soldier said defensively.

“No, no, of course not,” Anders said with a smirk. “I just meant her light step and her...”

“Big teeth!” one of the other men threw in and the table erupted in laughter. 

“Come on!” the soldier barked, suddenly rising from the table, “It's time to get back to work.”

Anders fell behind the group of teasing, laughing soldiers as they left. Nathaniel easily fell in step beside him.

“Don't want me to cut it, huh?” Anders' grin was a little smug.

“It's just so --”

“If you say 'pretty', I'm shaving my head,” Anders warned.

Nathaniel grinned at the mage. “Shiny?”

Anders rolled his eyes. “That'll do.” 

 

oOoOo 

 

It was a fortnight before Nathaniel could arrange a trip to Amaranthine. During that time, Anders continued to wear the leather breeches and boots with the tailed belt during their morning sessions. The sessions had been moved to after breakfast so that hunger would not interrupt their play.

Anders was now able to walk in the boots: his feet had accepted that the balls alone would take most of his weight, and his body had adjusted to the change in balance. 

Nathaniel had lifted his pony's chin with his crop until the pony learned to keep his head high as he walked the paddock. The crop under his knee and thigh had trained him to lift his knees high in a marching prance. Anders had needed no training to keep his hands out in front of his chest, balled playfully with his wrists relaxed. 

Each day, Nathaniel admired his pony as he pranced around the paddock. Such a beautiful pony should be beautifully adorned.

So it was with great excitement that Nathaniel walked the little lane in Amaranthine that led to the novelty shop. 

Nathaniel had put great thought into whether to involve Anders in the excursion. This was their shared game, and so the mage should have a say. But a horse owner does not take his pony with him to buy tack. He does not ask the pony's permission or opinion about what gear to purchase. So it was the horse owner and not the Grey Warden who walked into a shop seeking gear for his pony. Grey Wardens do not have show ponies.

The old man behind the counter looked Nathaniel over as the nobleman walked into the shop. 

“How may I help Ser today?” he asked in the clear, proper Fereldan of a nobleman's valet.

“I am looking for tack for my pony,” Nathaniel replied as casually as if the shop walls were lined with saddles and bridles instead of half-bare shelves holding dusty bottles and plainly wrapped packages.

“Shall Ser be riding the pony?”

“No. My pony is for show.”

“Very good, Ser. I have many items that may interest Ser.” He paused at the curtain that blocked Nathaniel's view of the back of the shop. “Might I inquire as to the coat colour of Ser's pony?”

Nathaniel thought about Anders's dark reddish-blond hair that was just starting to lighten as the days grew warmer. He thought about his light skin with hints of caramel that had darkened just a bit over the last two weeks of topless horseplay. He considered the horse equivalent.

“Amber champagne,” Nathaniel replied to the shopkeeper. 

“Very good, Ser.” The man disappeared behind the curtain.

While Nathaniel waited, he imagined Anders' response to the dialogue. Anders knew nothing of horse types, but Nathaniel imagined he would like the sound of “champagne amber.” Now that Nathaniel thought on it, he liked it too. Champagne was fine, special, foreign. It was bubbly, yet dry. And amber...he began to think of the mage's eyes.

The shopkeeper was watching him when Nate's rogue instincts finally interrupted his revelry to inform him the older man had silently reappeared. 

The man watched Nathaniel's eyes a moment more, then made a little decisive nod and began sorting the packages he held. Some he set behind himself, having decided they did not match whatever he had seen in Nathaniel's eyes. Others he set on the counter in front of the nobleman.

Nathaniel opened a long narrow box. Inside were long, bright green and yellow feathers.

“The plumes can be attached to an existing bridle,” the shopkeeper explained. “Either along the jaw line or at the top of the head.” He showed Nathaniel the simple leather attachments.

“The colours,” he continued, “match the tail.” He held two identical boxes, looked at Nathaniel critically, and then chose the box in his right hand. 

Nathaniel opened it to see a long tail of short yellow and green feathers sewn into a fluffy boa. His eye ran the length of the tail until they settled on the attachment. It was hourglass in shape and it was only a moment before he realised how it was meant to be secured to Anders' body.

A little smile curled on his lips as he imagined Anders' reaction to such an accessory. He looked up and saw the shopkeeper had been watching his reaction, clearly pleased with himself over a correct assessment of what might interest his customer. 

Nathaniel realised the tail would not work with Anders' breeches. He knit his brow as he considered this problem. The shopkeeper read his perfectly once more.

“Ser may wish to attire the pony according to occasion and weather,” he said in a casual tone. “The days are becoming warmer and the pony may suffer.”

Nathaniel could not help but smile at the man. He was truly a master of his craft.

The weather conspired against Nathaniel and became cold and overcast. Anders desperately needed his leather breeches, and so the old tail remained. The plumes were delayed as well, as Nathaniel did not wish to use them without the matching tail. 

Instead, Nathaniel focused on form. He taught his pony different gaits and poses, each requested with a single word or tap of a long dressage whip. Sometimes he led his pony by the reigns that attached to his bridle, but he had also introduced a harness. The harness wrapped around Anders' trim waist and secured a long rope to the pony's body. Nathaniel would hold the rope as Anders trotted around his trainer. 

Nathaniel was meticulous in all things, and he was an exacting trainer. He was gentle when his pony complied to his commands, but he was not afraid to use his whip to keep his pony focused. Form was everything. A lazy pace would earn his pony a swift craft on one buttocks. A dropped chin would bring a mark to his cheek. His corrections always earned him a fiery glare, but his pony always obeyed.

It was amazing to consider that the mage who had shuffled around Vigil's Keep for months was now a proud pony performing a complex three tempi change as he pirouetted around his trainer. Nathaniel held the reigns proudly as he watched Anders' muscles move under his glistening skin. The wind tousle his pony's mane and tail. 

The old tail. But the sun had come out that day and Nathaniel held felt the change in temperature. The next morning would be warm.

He slowed his pony and signalled him to stop. He exchanged the bridle for a simple collar harness and led his pony to the shady grass outside the paddock. Once Anders was positioned his knees and forearms, Nathaniel removed the boots and began grooming. His eyes focused on the breeches.

Anders had worked hard and the session had run long. The pony's skin was wet and gleaming. The leather breeches must have been stifling. 

Nathaniel took a risk. As he ran the brush along his pony's back, he tugged the breeches very gently. Each stroke ended at the top of the breeches and was matched with a little tug. As the strokes moved under the pony's belly, Nathaniel's free hand went to the ties that held the breeches tightly against Anders' hips. Anders did not seem to notice. 

Once the ties were loose, Nathaniel's little tugs on the breeches became more earnest. Unfortunately, the leather was stuck to the hot, wet skin within it. The breeches could not be moved without peeling them back.

He signalled his pony to stand and received a confused look. He was breaking their routine. But Anders was well trained and obeyed without breaking the game. 

Nathaniel began running the brush down his pony's chest and stomach. When he reached the top of the breeches, he feigned a look of annoyance and pulled the top open. 

Anders' whole body went taught under his hands. He met the pony's eye and saw a storm of emotions. The pony took a step back. 

“Easy, Boy,” Nathaniel cooed. “Easy. I'm just brushing you down. Easy.” He lifted his hand to his pony's mane and gently stroked his hair. He let the back of his fingers run along the pony's jaw.

Nathaniel resumed brushing his pony, staying far from the breeches until he felt the muscles under his hands grow supple again. Slowly he worked down to the belly again. He placed his hands on the breeches and peeled them down Anders' hips.

Anders stamped a foot. It was Nathaniel's turn to freeze. They had agreed that three consecutive stamps would end play. He was being warned. 

He moved to his pony's side and ran the brush gently down his back. By the third stroke, his pony was lolling his head back at the sensation. Nathaniel risked pulling the breeches lower. The front of the breeches was now low enough to expose tightly coiled dark hair. The back displayed the cleft of rounded buttocks.

Anders head was back up and his eyes flashed. He stamped his foot twice. Each move was forceful and deliberate. Nathaniel nodded his head to acknowledge the threat. He was very close to the edge.

Nathaniel was very tempted to press on, but he chose patience. He had devoted the last few months to building trust, and it would be foolish to risk losing it all in one moment. He continued brushing for a few moments and then put the brush aside. 

“You did very well today, Anders.” He was stroking blond hair and smiling as his free hand undid the harness. He was rewarded with large amber eyes full of trust. 

“Anders.”

Nathaniel and the mage were leaving the dining hall after the midday meal. Both men turned to face the Commander. 

“There's a farmer outside who has an infested field.” The dwarf launched straight into business, as was his way. “I want the whole thing scorched to the dirt before the infestation spreads. It'll take you the rest of the day and I suggest you bring some lyrium. It doesn't sound like a small field.”

“I have the potions in my room,” Anders replied and started to turn toward his room.

“Anders.” The dwarf was appraising the mage. “You were a right pain when I conscripted you, but I gotta admit...You've shaped up.” Nathaniel imagined this was as close to a compliment as one could hope to extract from the battle-hardened warrior. “Keep up the good work.”

Nathaniel and Anders watched the dwarf walk off.

Anders looked at Nathaniel and the rogue could see he was baffled. He chuckled at the mage.

“If you'd received those orders a few months ago, you would have whined and complained all the way to the field and back. I think he's impressed.”

“I would not have --” Anders began to object.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow and the mage fell silent. 

“It's a good thing,” Nathaniel continued, “It makes you a better Warden.” Without thinking, he ran the back of his fingers along Anders' jaw. 

Both men froze as they recognised that the gesture had carried over from the morning's session. Nathaniel stared at the mage, looking into his large amber eyes. It felt like an eternity before Anders finally muttered something about getting potions and walked briskly away. Nathaniel did not see him again until supper.

Anders sat with his usual group of soldiers and Nathaniel could only watch him from afar. He was still not sure what had happened that afternoon. He had been thinking how Anders' training as his horse had made him a better Warden, and then he had been caressing Anders. 

He had caressed Anders the very same way that morning during their play. The difference was that this afternoon he had caressed Anders the _mage_. 

Was that allowed? 

When they played, they set rules and maintained roles. And Nathaniel led. He knew what he was doing. But he was not the _mage's_ trainer. He did not own him or guide him. 

He looked up and saw that Anders was watching him. Their eyes met. Nathaniel took a moment to consider the man as just that: a man. 

Anders was handsome. Nathaniel had always known that, but he had given it little thought. A handsome fool was still a fool, and Nathaniel had no time for fools. But over the past few months he had changed his assessment of the mage. He could no longer dismiss him the way he had for so long. And suddenly the physical attraction he felt toward the man had greater relevance. 

What upset Nathaniel most about his sudden confusion was that the feelings might harm their play. He was desperate not to risk their daily sessions; they meant too much to him.

He decided to have an early night and simply hope Anders showed up the next morning. He was almost to his room when he heard footsteps behind him. He stopped and let the other person catch up. When he turned, he was face to face with Anders. 

The mage had a funny look in his eye as they stood watching each other. Then the mage lifted his hand and stroked Nathaniel's jaw with the back of his fingers. A small smile spread across Anders' lips. Then he leaned forward, pressing those lips to Nathaniel's own.

Nathaniel's mouth opened slightly in surprise and Anders's tongue darted inside. The mage's arms wrapped around him, and he finally recovered from his shock enough to kiss back. The kiss deepened and their hands groped over clothing as they stood in the corridor to their rooms. 

Finally, Anders pulled away with one last wet kiss. Nathaniel gasped at the loss of the other man's touch. Anders again stroked his jaw with the back of his fingertips.

“I'll see you in the morning,” the mage vowed, walking to his own room and disappearing inside.

oOo

 

Nathaniel was walking to the paddock feeling uncertain what the morning would bring. He had not seen the mage at breakfast, but he was determined not to worry. He had brought the tail and plumes, even though he doubted he would be able to use them. If he was honest with himself, he was simply desperate to believe the game would survive at all.

He walked among the last of the fruit trees and stepped out into sight of the paddock. He did not see Anders. He walked closer and closer until he was almost at the gate. That was when he saw a sight so beautiful, his breath caught in his throat.

Anders was in the shady grass next to the paddock, positioned on his forearms and knees. His hair was carefully and intricately plaited. He was completely naked except for his boots and the old tail that was belted around his waist. 

Nathaniel stood in place trying to burn the image into his memory. 

He picked up the simple collar harness and fastened it to Anders' neck without a word. He tied the rope to the tree. His pony was obediently still.

“Good boy,” he greeted, gently stroking Anders' head and back. As he stroked him, his eyes fell on the old tail. He undid the fastening and tossed the tail aside.

“It does not suit you. A show pony with your grace deserves something far more...colourful.” His voice was even and calm, although he felt almost giddy.

He picked up the new tail, gently stroked the feathers, and carried it to where Anders could see it. Amber eyes narrowed a bit at the sight of the flamboyant accessory. They ran up the tail to the attachment and went wide. His pony tightened his buttocks. 

Nathaniel gave a low chuckle. He set the tail aside and picked up a vial of oil. He coated his fingers, set the vial aside, and approached his pony. He got down onto his knees. Sweet words fell from his lips as his clean hand stroked his pony's back and haunches. He leaned further behind the pony as his other hand went between the buttocks and he placed an oiled finger at the tight entrance. 

A hoof slammed into his chest, and he was thrown back onto the grass. Anders had turned to glare at him before tossing his head arrogantly and side-stepping away. 

Nathaniel was delighted. 

He tightened the rope that held Anders to the tree and then put the waist harness on Anders as well. His pony tried to move away, but Nathaniel was fast and strong. He tied the second harness to another tree so that Anders' movement was severely restricted.

He oiled his fingers once more and approached Anders. He held the waist harness and moved an oily finger to the tight entrance. Pain shot through his other arm and he turned to see Anders' bared teeth. His pony had bit him! His instinct was to strike back, but his training forced him to walk away. 

He walked over to Anders' bridle and removed the simple cord bit they had used so far. Digging into his bag, he found the metal one he had not thought to ever need. He fitted the metal bit and returned to his pony. With a firm grasp on the pony's collar, he held the head still long enough to force the bit in and the bridle on. Anders tried to bite him again, but Nathaniel gave the reigns a sharp tug. Anders flinched in pain.

“Now, my pet,” Nathaniel began with relish, “you have fought beautifully, but it is futile.”

Nathaniel held the reign that attached to Anders' right cheek taut as he stood on his pony's left side. Whenever Anders tried to turn his head to the left, a quick tug brought his head back to the right. The pony huffed.

Anders moved his haunches from side to side, but Nathaniel was finally able to slid the tip of one oily finger inside. Anders froze at the sensation. Nathaniel pushed the finger in completely and moved it gently in and out. Carefully, he added a second finger and began scissoring and stretching. 

The muscles were very tight and Nathaniel briefly wondered if this was a first for the other man. He promptly shoved the thought from his mind. “ _This is a horse. A pony. My pony._ ” 

He removed his fingers and heard a release of breath. He picked up the beautiful feathered tail and held it where the feathers joined the attachment. He covered the attachment with oil before approaching Anders.

Nathaniel stroked the back and buttocks and thighs, all the while making little cooing noises. Then he placed the plug against Anders' entrance and pushed it inside with a single thrust. Buttocks clenched together and it only made the sight more lovely as the yellow and green feathers cascaded down between firm, round butt-cheeks.

“Exquisite,” he said in marvel. He ran his hand along his pony's back. “Such a handsome horse. Truly you are lovely.”

He remembered the plumes and went to fetch them. He attached a smaller plume to each side of the bridle, just above the cheek. He then bound five more together to make a headdress that attached to both the bridle and the carefully plaited mane.

Having removed both harnesses, Nathaniel led his pony into the paddock by his reigns. 

Anders stood with his head up proudly, displaying the long yellow and green feathers. His hands were balled at the end of his perfectly positioned arms. His back was straight, although he pushed his arse out just enough to accentuate the small yellow and green feathers that ran down his bare thighs to the top of his high leather boots.

Nathaniel filled with pride at the sight. His pony was the picture of beauty. _His_ pony.

He started their exercises slowly, aware that Anders was adjusting to a very new and unusual sensation. It was a few drills before his pony relaxed and returned to his usual form. From then on, his pony was flawless: he responded to every cue with obedience and flourish.

Nathaniel could have spent eternity standing in that paddock with his pony circling him. The sun was bright and reflected off the sheen on his pony's body. The cool breeze ran through the colourful feathers making them dance. Anders was the perfect harmony of strength and grace.

They played through the morning and the sun was high overhead by the time Nathaniel was brushing down his pony on the shady grass. He removed the high boots and began massaging the muscles of his pony's legs. He had worked Anders harder than ever before and he did not want to risk cramps or strains. 

Once his pony was groomed and relaxed, Nathaniel reluctantly ended the game.

“Let me remove the feathers before I take the bridle off, Anders. You really did beautifully today. I know I pushed you, but you were wonderful.”

The man, for he was a man once again, beamed at the praise. Nathaniel removed the bridle and Anders stretched his jaw.

“Maybe we could skip that thing next time.” The mage was glaring at the metal bit.

“It depends whether you behave.” Nathaniel purred back.

Part 16

Anders was naked except for his tail. Nathaniel was loathe to remove it.

“I think you are forgetting something,” Anders prompted.

“Are you sure you don't want to keep it in?”

“Ha ha,” Anders replied dryly.

“Hold the fence of the paddock and lean forward a bit,” Nathaniel instructed, and the mage complied. Nathaniel walked behind him and ran his fingertips over the mage's lower back and buttocks. 

“Relax, Anders. I'll be gentle.” Nathaniel felt a little shiver run through the other man. He spread Anders' buttocks with one hand and grasped the base of the plug with the other. Very gently, he pulled it out.

“Maker!” Anders gasped as he tightened his grasp on the sturdy wood fence. His arse was still pushed out proudly. 

Nathaniel had to appreciate the mage's pose, this time in a way that had nothing to do with horse-training. He was rubbing the man's thighs and back without thinking.

“Nathaniel?” Anders' voice was low and unsure, but there was trust. He was asking for guidance.

Nathaniel placed a kiss on the mage's shoulder and felt the other man tense very briefly. When the back relaxed once more, he risked another kiss, and then another. His lips moved from shoulder, to neck, to ear as his hands continued to dance along the mage's skin.

“Nathaniel,” the voice was a whisper, a confession. “I feel...empty.”

“Are you sure?” Nathaniel remembered his earlier thought that this might all be very new to the mage. He knew Anders claimed sexual prowess, but none of the mage's stories involved other men.

“Please. Nathaniel. I trust you.” There was need in the mage's low voice and it matched his own.

He found the oil he had used earlier. Undoing his breeches, he pulled his erection free and coated himself in oil. He took a deep breath before gently pressing against Anders' entrance.

Despite a morning wearing the plug, Anders was deliciously tight. The intense heat made Nathaniel shudder as he pushed himself in completely. Seated within the mage, he released his breath and waited for the other man to relax around him. 

“Are you ready?” he asked gently. He did not want to rush the mage, especially as this was almost certainly his first time.

“Move, Nathaniel. Please.” Confidence was mixed with desperation and it only excited Nathaniel more.

He pulled out almost completely and then thrust himself forward. The man beneath him gasped. He moved in and out, adjusting his position little by little until he heard a startled cry that assured him he had found the right spot within the mage. Again and again he pounded into Anders, stroking that sensitive area with the tip of his erection. Anders' body was tightening and Nathaniel reached forward to wrap a hand around the mage's cock. He pumped his hand in time with his thrusts and felt the other man tighten and twitch beneath him.

And then Anders was crying out his name, covering Nathaniel's hand in hot cum, and contracting hard around Nathaniel's cock inside him. The sound and feel of it brought Nathaniel to his own climax and he spilled himself deep within the other man.

Nathaniel fell forward against Anders' back as Anders braced his head on the highest slat of the fence. Both men were shuddering and gasping. Finally Nathaniel gathered his strength and carefully removed himself. He sat comfortably in the cool grass admiring the view his new position afforded of his lover.

Anders turned and slid down the length of the fencepost. Resting in the grass, he looked at Nathaniel. The two men held each other's gaze and let lazy smiles spread across their faces.

“I like that a lot better than the metal bit,” Anders said. “Maybe we could repeat that next time?”

“It depends whether you behave.” Nathaniel purred back.


End file.
